Heartbreak and Tomatoes
by butnotquite
Summary: Arthur is jealous and has a temper. Guinevere will have none of either. One-shot, modern AU. Rated M for language.


**Heartbreak and Tomatoes**

Arthur is jealous and has a temper. Guinevere will have none of either. One-shot, modern AU. Rated M for language.

The dress was gold.

It was cut loosely, but not so loose that she had no discernible shape. The material clung to the curve of her breasts and the roundness of her hips; the hem hit midway up her thighs and while the sleeves were gathered at her wrists, the back dipped low. Low enough to suggest entirely too many things to a man.

And it was gold.

Arthur scowled as Guinevere made her way to him, her hips swaying and a hint of a wicked smile on her lips. He was unable to process thought for a moment because he knew that look. He was very familiar with that look and knew that good things could only come out of that look, especially where he was concerned.

She stood in front of him and stood a little bit on tiptoe to plant a small kiss on his lips.

"Arthur," she breathed against him. "How do you like my dress?"

That got him scowling again.

She must have seen the rage on his face because she stepped back and fixed him with a glare of her own.

"What?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, daring him to explain himself.

"The dress is beautiful, my love," he said, wanting to placate her. "You are beautiful."

"But?" Her tone was clipped.

"But," Arthur said, the furrow between his brows getting deeper. "But it's gold."

Guinevere threw up her hands in exasperation.

"Of all the puerile..." her voice faded away, she was so angry."That's your issue? 'But it's gold.'? What is wrong with you Arthur Pendragon?"

Her hands were balled into fists at her sides and her jaw was jutting out in her rage.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

_'She doesn't know?'_ Arthur was incredulous. _'Or is she baiting me?'_

He was angry, too, but he wasn't going to discuss this with her now. They were going to be late and Arthur was damned if he was going to be shown up by him.

Instead, Arthur sighed and walked over and gathered Guinevere's coat from where it was resting on an armchair.

"Can we just leave?" He held the coat for her to slip into. "We can discuss this later."

"You're damned right we'll talk about this later," Guinevere said as she thrust her arms in the coat's sleeves. Cinching the ties around her waist, she stormed past him and outside the door. She would have slammed the door in his face if he didn't catch it in time.

She made it to the passenger side of the car and waited until he opened it for her. She slid inside without one look at him. She was seething and he knew it. He also was close to not caring because he was pissed off, too.

Gold. She chose to wear a gold dress to Lancelot's Christmas party.

The drive to the du Lac estate was tense. Guinevere didn't say a word and Arthur didn't make the effort to strike up a conversation. However, his mind was in overdrive.

_'A gold dress,'_ he thought to himself. _'Of all the ridiculous...gold! She chose gold!'_

And on and on until they made it to Lancelot's family's home. Guinevere stepped out of the vehicle as soon as he turned off the engine and made her way into the house. Arthur all but there his keys at the young man attending to the cars sand huffed his way after his girlfriend.

"Damn fool..." he muttered, but all coherent thought flew out of his mind when he saw her shrug off her coat, leaving her once again clad in that dress.

In the carefully set lighting of the party, her skin turned golden, almost blending into the dress. If she moved a certain way, it was almost difficult to see where her skin ended and the dress began. And with her hair pulled into a slightly messy up do, the bare expanse of her back practically begged to be caressed.

On any other woman, that dress would have been scandalous, but on Guinevere, it was nothing short of perfect. She had dressed to seduce tonight, but her angelic face was the perfect foil to any indecent proposal.

Arthur was gone the moment he first set eyes on Guinevere all those years ago, and her effect on him hasn't waned. She still made his heart pound, turned his mouth dry, and made his mind swirl with carnal thoughts.

And then Lancelot stepped in. Even from where he was standing, Arthur could see that he was flustered, rendered almost speechless by Guinevere.

Guinevere in her gold dress.

A low growl actually sounded from Arthur's throat and he all but stalked straight to the pair. He immediately put an arm around Guinevere's waist and pressed her closer to him. Lancelot's eyes grew wide at Arthur's unspoken dare.

_'Go on. Make a move and I'll rip your head off your neck.'_

The other man wisely took a step back and welcomed both of them to the party.

Lancelot led them to one of the many small tables dotting his estate's ballroom and Arthur was pleased to see that Merlin and Mithian were sharing it with them.

Mithian and Guinevere immediately hugged each other and fell into talking about how long it had been since they'd seen each other. For the first time this evening, Arthur saw Guinevere relax and after a while it almost felt like the events of earlier didn't happen.

Small printed menus were on the table and Merlin picked one up.

"I wonder what's for dinner?" His friend asked no one in particular.

"Heartbreak and tomatoes," Arthur answered darkly. He was looking at Guinevere. Guinevere who was smiling and laughing with Mithian. Once or twice she caught his eye and he saw no rancor there. She looked a little confused, but since she wasn't frowning, Arthur assumed that all was well.

Until Arthur made the mistake of moving closer to Guinevere to offer a bite of dessert.

"I haven't forgotten, Arthur," she seethed through clenched teeth. "And you're an idiot if you think you're getting off that easy."

Arthur's temper rose as quickly as hers did.

"Why are you wearing that dress?" He threw the question at her.

"Because I look good in it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," Guinevere bit out. "Really."

Arthur threw his ace on the table.

"Why are you wearing a gold dress, Guinevere?" His eyes bored into hers. "Why are you wearing a gold dress to Lancelot's party."

Her eyes widened in understanding and, just as quickly, tears pooled in them.

"How dare you."

Guinevere was trembling in anger and her voice was deadly calm. She dabbed at a corner of her mouth with napkin and excused herself from the table. Arthur turned his head to see that both Merlin and Mithian were staring at them with undisguised interest, akin to watching a live soap opera unfolding before their eyes.

Arthur got up too and followed Guinevere as she made her way through the maze of tables and people; he saw her make a stop where Lancelot was standing. She must have told him that she was leaving because he looked surprised. The other man bent down to buss Guinevere's cheek and Arthur's temper flared again.

She made her way out of the ballroom and Arthur followed her lead, pausing only to throw a dirty look at Lancelot who gave him a small salute with a champagne flute.

_'I'll be back to bash your face in, you smug bastard,'_ Arthur thought.

She was waiting at the expansive foyer, wearing her coat once again, and obviously waiting for him to make an appearance.

A short while later, they were in his car and making their way back to their shared flat. The confidence that emanated from Guinevere earlier that evening was gone. This time, she was boiling mad at him. Arthur found himself not caring once again; he was just as incensed.

He parked the car and she slammed her way into their apartment. He ran after her; he wanted answers, dammit, and he was going to get them tonight.

Guinevere made a beeline for their bedroom and Arthur was shocked to see that she was pulling out her suitcase from the closet. She laid the bag on the bed and pulled the zipper to open it. Another trip to the closet had her hauling armloads of clothes and then dumping them into the open suitcase.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Tears were threatening to spill over Guinevere's cheeks and her answer came out in a trembling voice.

"You need to sort out your life, Arthur," her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to stifle her sobs. "And until you do, I want no part of it."

She was leaving him?

"No," he said and began taking her clothes back into the closet. There was a brief tussle as Guinevere tried to wrench her clothes away from him, but when a particular favorite blouse ripped down the middle after a particularly rough tug, she threw the clothes down on the floor and faced him.

"What is wrong with you?" She yelled, hands on hips and cheeks flushed with anger.

"Why are you wearing that dress?" He shouted back.

"BECAUSE I LOOK GOOD IN IT!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.

He stepped closer to her until his face was inches from hers.

"Why did you wear a gold dress to Lancelot's party, Guinevere?" Arthur's voice was calm but his temper was in the verge on exploding.

"You think," she sputtered, not believing what he was implying. "You think I wore this for Lancelot?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?" Arthur threw his arms out wide. "That is his favorite color on you! You wore it all the time when you were dating him! He'd go on and on about how you looked like a goddess..."

"Fuck you, Arthur," she interrupted his tirade with an invective and calm voice. Tears were falling from her eyes and she made no effort to stem their flow.

"Fuck you and your insecurities."

She bent down and collected the clothes they had dropped earlier. She put them back in her suitcase and made a few more trips to the dresser and the closet to get more of her things.

Arthur sat down on the bed. Leave it to Guinevere to get to the heart of the matter at once. He was a successful man; he ran an empire with little effort, he had resources upon resources at his fingertips, and he had yet to encounter a closed door that his name couldn't open. But Guinevere, the love of his wretched life, threw him for a loop and he had lost his mind.

Arthur noticed that she had stopped moving around the room. He felt the bed move and looked to see that she was sitting down, too. Her back to him, her shoulders hunched as if protecting herself from a blow.

He had hurt her.

"You really must hate me deep inside, Arthur," Guinevere's voice broke through the uncomfortable silence. "You must really think so little of me to accuse me of trying to cheat on you."

Arthur said nothing.

"For you to even think that I was trying to get to Lancelot," her voice tapered off and there was silence between them again.

"Gold is his favorite color on you," Arthur said once again. And it was true; he always had an earful from Lancelot whenever Guinevere was wearing gold. They had dated briefly—far too briefly—but Arthur still remembered feeling insanely jealous because she was with Lancelot and not with him. He had fallen in love with her on sight, but she was wary of him and his reputation. But he fought to change her mind about him and now they were together.

But now that might change.

"I wore this dress for you," Guinevere said in a small voice.

Arthur whipped around to see her bow her head; tucking her chin into her chest.

"The lady who sold it to me said that the gold matched my skin," she said. "And I wanted you to think..."

A small, watery chuckle came from her.

"I wanted you to think that I was naked while I was wearing it," she said the confession sadly. "I felt good because it made me look good and I wanted you to see that."

She took a deep breath.

"But all you goddamned thought about was Lancelot," anger was creeping into her voice again. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were the one in love with him."

"Are you?" Arthur asked softly. "Are you still in love..."

"What the hell is it with you, Pendragon?" She exploded once again and, this time, stalked around the bed stand in front of him. "What the fuck do I have to do to get it through your thick skull..."

She jabbed a forefinger into his temple.

"...that I am with you? That I love you? That I would do fuck all to make you happy?"

Guinevere's chest was heaving with emotion. She was angry and upset and sad. And he was so selfish.

"If you can't accept what I'm giving you, if what I'm giving you isn't enough, then we should just end this right now. I don't deserve this bullshit and you definitely don't deserve me."

"No!"

Arthur wrapped his arms around Guinevere's midsection and buried his face in her stomach.

He stayed that way for a moment, and a while later, he felt Guinevere's fingers smoothing his hair.

Arthur planted small kisses where his lips made contact with her body; through the coat she was still wearing.

"I'm sorry," he raised his head to look at her, his eyes glassy with tears. "But I just keep thinking back on how I loved you the minute I saw you..."

"And I took a while to see what kind of a person you really are," she finished his thoughts with a sigh. She cupped his face in her hands.

"I love you, Arthur Pendragon," she said, looking deeply into his eyes. "You. No one else. No one ever again. Just you."

"How could you?" He asked. "I'm a jackass."

"I don't know," she smoothed some of his hair back from his face. "And, yes, you are."

He brayed and she gave a watery chuckle.

"I love you, my Guinevere," he said softly, quietly, as if asking permission to express himself. "And I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I love you," she said, just as softly. "But if you ever pull that stunt again..."

She left the warning hanging in the air, and the promise of the threat chilled Arthur more than he cared to admit. He would never make it without her.

He cleared his throat and began moving the coat from her shoulders.

"And now about this dress," he said and saw her raise an eyebrow. "That lady was right. There were moments when it sort of melted into your skin."

He dropped the coat on the floor and ran his hands over her curves which were highlighted by the shimmering cloth.

"Under the right light," Arthur's voice became husky as his desire grew. "You did give the suggestion of being..."

His hands moved over her round buttocks and his eyes flew wide when he realized that she wore no knickers underneath her skirt. He looked up at her and saw a deliciously wicked gleam in her eyes. He knew that look.

"Naked?" Guinevere finished his sentence. She allowed him to move his hands under her skirt to confirm his theory.

"Commando," she whispered in his ear as he found proof.

Gold was peeled away from gold and, once again, the rest of the evening was filled with shouts and screams. But of another kind.


End file.
